


Check Mate!

by himitsutsubasa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fusion, Hockey AU, M/M, OMG Check Please! AU, bi-phobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himitsutsubasa/pseuds/himitsutsubasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is a junior, a hockey player, and a pretty good student.</p><p>And then world renowned hockey player Tyler Hale's family dies in a fire and a freshman hockey player tumbles into Chris' life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Check Mate!

**Author's Note:**

> Only contains TW characters. Sorry. Will attempt to colonize Check Please! Fandom some other time.

Chris is surprised really.

Okay, not really. Just because he doesn’t know who Kim Kardashian is doesn’t mean he lives under a rock. He just… doesn’t listen to celebrity news.

But what happened a few months ago is way more than gossip and drama.

First things first, asking a hockey player who Tyler Hale is… is like asking a figure skater who Michelle Kwan is, or a gymnast who Nadia Comaneci is, or anyone who Beyoncé is.

(Chris doesn’t recognize Beyoncé except for that one song about putting a ring on it, but the point still stands.)

Of course, the tragic news that the Tyler Hale died in a fire reaches Chris’ ears. Of course, he knows that it was the man’s nephew’s crazy skating partner who did it. Of course, he knows who Jennifer Blake is.

That said, secondly, he knows who Peter Hale is. Peter is… he is the… God, there really is no way to explain Peter Hale except goddamn disappointing.

The man’s a figure skater. Not that Chris has anything against men figure skating – he reserves true resentment for ice dancing – or anything like that. He just thinks it is wasted potential because he has seen Peter Hale with a hockey stick in his hand and it is a damned shame the man doesn’t do that more often.

Thirdly, Peter Hale is not going back into figure skating apparently, which actually makes Chris feel awful for all the times he called Peter a goddamn waste because even if he wasn’t in Chris’ sport, he was still fantastic on ice.

The thing that surprised him was Peter showing up to first practice in hockey gear.

And he’s not the only one, according to the silence. Duke’s jaw dropped. John looked like he’s had a heart attack, and considering the way he eats that is no surprise. Raf was white as the ice under their skates. Even “White House” Whitte’s freaked out. 

“Come on, boys,” Melissa, their team manager, called from the side lines. “He flew in this morning just to make this practice. Don’t disappoint him.”

And they’ve got a puck chucked at them and Peter Hale, scarred and silent, smacked it into the goal.

* * *

“What’s he doing here?” Whitte asked the moment Hale left the locker room, all bundled up and still silent.

Raf shook his head, wrapping a towel around his waist. “I heard he got drafted for the NHL.”

“Didn’t the team drop him though? Damage on his right side or something like that.” Duke kept up with the news more than the rest of them. Chris regretted that sometimes.

John, team captain, coughed. “He played perfectly well today.”

And that’s the end of that.

Except Peter never moves into the frogs’ house and Chris stares at the room across the hall and wonders where the man is.

* * *

“He’s living off campus, with his niece and nephew.” Claudia put their coffees on the table and Chris took his cappuccino.

“How did you..?”

A sad smile, like a flickering light bulb, drifted onto her face. “Figure skaters stick together…”

“And once a figure skater, always a figure skater,” Chris finished for her.

She put her hand over his. “You know how much family means.”

And he nodded, lacing his fingers through her, because if his cousin hadn’t gotten out first, he wouldn’t be here right now and he will never forget what Claudia did for him.

She grinned. “So how was your date with Victoria?”

* * *

“Chris.”

“Yeah?” The forward turned and almost bumped into John.

His captain just ran his hand through his hair and settled on the bench. “Is it just me, or is Peter really weird?”

Chris settled down next to him. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“He won’t let anyone check him.”

Chris stopped unlacing his skates and sighed. “How can we check him when he won’t anyone get close to him?”

John chuckled. “I think Whitte’s going to have to ice a few ribs for trying. But, Chris, we have to do something.”

“I don’t know what we can do.”

“He takes orders.”

“From you and Melissa. I highly doubt he’s going to take an order to be checked.”

John laughed. “He’s really over the moon for Melissa.”

Chris doesn’t say it, but he’s pretty sure Peter’s over the moon for John too.

* * *

“Peter.” Chris knocked on the door again. It’s six a.m. and there’s no practice, but he’s standing at the door of the address Claudia gave him and he’s going to make it work.

There’s a pause, then the door clicked and a very severe looking seven year old stared back at him. The boy, still in his pajamas, glared with the strongest eyebrows Chris has ever seen and then promptly slammed the door in his face.

“Wait!” He tried to remember the name. Tyler, Patrick, Peter… “Derek!”

The lock didn’t click.

Chris tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge and through the glass he saw another pair of eyes staring at him. “It’s Chris Argent. From the hockey team. I need to talk to Peter.”

Again, there’s a pause, then a girl opened the door, hand on her hip and the signature – at least he thinks it is signature – Hale glare on her face. “Peter’s asleep.”

“It’s Thursday.”

“And he doesn’t have class until eleven.”

“And you guys?”

“Have school.”

Chris stared at the little girl and boy for a moment. He needed to get into that house, if only to see that Peter is alright.

He pasted on his puppy-dog smile. “Do you need help making breakfast?”

The girl’s eyebrow went up and she held out her hand. “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

* * *

Chris dropped the kids, Laura and Derek, off at school, before returning to see how Peter’s doing.

He entered the house with Laura’s key – she drew a promise out of him that he would make sure Peter got to class and had something other than Red Bull – and smelled coffee and heard bars of some song he didn’t recognize.

“Peter?”

A clatter and he almost got a frying pan to the face.

“Whoa! It’s me! Chris!”

Peter stared at him for a moment before letting his arm drop to his side.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice was higher than Chris expected and liquid smooth like the coffee brewing in the kitchen.

“Laura asked me to make sure you’re okay.”

The frying pan was up again and Chris threw his arms up.

“John asked me to stop by today and she opened the door.”

The pan went down and Chris really needed to talk to John about that.

Peter huffed and turned back into the kitchen. “Do you want coffee?”

“Uh…”

Chris’s eyes immediately darted to the scars on Peter’s right side. Small little lines that marred his flawless skin, but to Chris they looked like the scales of a dragon who survived the flames.

“I’m not scared of you.”

Peter blinked at Chris, tension in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m just really scared of that pan.”

Peter looked down, as if he forgot there was a hot frying pan dripping oil in his hand, and a smile broke on his face. The light fell just right through the kitchen and lit up the air around him. Chris couldn’t help but smile back.

“Do you want coffee?” Peter asked again, softer, facing Chris with a small smile on his face.

“I’d love to.”

He could get Peter on the checking train later.

* * *

“It’s been half the season and he still hasn’t said a word to me.”

“Come on, Whitte. It’s not that big a deal.”

“He mute or something?”

“He talks.” Chris dragged the towel over his wet hair. “He just doesn’t talk much.”

“He talks to you.” It sounded like an accusation.

Neutral, Chris thought. “I help out with the kids sometimes.”

Raf got this strange look on his face. “You’re fucking Hale aren’t you?”

“I am not.” Not a lie, though that ass comes up in his dreams every once in a while.

“But you want to.” And damn it, Whitte could be perceptive at all the wrong times.

“It doesn’t matter if I want to or not.” Whitte flushed and nodded, still some decency left in him.

Raf laughed. “Is that why you and Victoria crashed and burned? She found out you’re gay?”

Duke snapped a towel at Raf. “The proper term is bisexual, asshat.”

Chris would never be sure if Duke taking a human sexuality course was a good thing or a bad thing. Upside, he was all about equality. Downside, he knocked heads together sometimes, not that they didn’t deserve it, but that meant the probably of getting kicked off the team for fighting went up.

“You’re just confused.”

Chris rubbed his face, willing Raf to get hit upside the head with a less conservative upbringing. “Victoria and I just so happen to like more than one gender, so you can take your prejudices and shove them up your ass.”

“Um…” Peter’s eyes, green and wide, went wider as Chris, startled by his appearance, stumbled over his skates. “John wants us out of here in five.”

Whitte’s face fell and he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. “I have a date with Natalie. Why?”

“Team bonding.” Peter lips twisted into a sympathetic smile. “Mandatory.”

Whitte sighed and wandered off to make his call.

Duke shook his head and smiled at Peter. “I’ll make sure they get their asses moving.”

“Thank you, Deucalion.”

“No problem, Peter.”

Peter turned, and paused, body stiffening a little. “Rafael, I would choose my words carefully in the future if I were you. Melissa might take offense and if she does, I will have to do something about it.”

The look on Raf’s face was priceless.

* * *

“I don’t get it!” Derek kicked his legs, still too short to reach the floor in the big dining room chairs.

“I don’t get it either, Der.” Chris ran his hands over his face. Goddamn common core. “Laura?”

“Negative, Captain.”

“Ugh.” The three heads dropped onto the table.

“I’m so happy I’m in middle school.”

“University is easier than this.”

“Why can’t I go outside and play instead?”

A chuckle sounded from the kitchen doorway and Peter – “We’ll deal with it when we come to it,” John said after watching the two of them try to check each other all morning. – brought in a plate of celery sticks with peanut butter and raisins.

“You can go out and play after you finish your math.”

“But I don’t get it!”

Peter leaned in, over Derek’s shoulder, and picked up a pencil.

“Pup, look at this.” And he scribbled a few lines of numbers and symbols. “You put this here and this here…”

Derek picked up his own pencil. “And you draw a box around that…”

“And add those numbers up.”

“And that’s the answer.”

Derek laughed. “Chris! Chris! Look!”

Chris looked over the paper and it was all gibberish to him still, but it made sense to Peter and Derek and what?

“What did you do?”

“You add up all the parts you add to the base.”

And oh, that made some strange weird sense. “Why?”

Peter shrugged and went back into the kitchen. “Is lasagna alright?”

 “Yes!” Laura jumped out of her chair, hand in Chris’ face. “Pay up.”

Chris pulled five dollars out of his pocket. “You win this time, pup.”

He called into the kitchen. “Would it have killed you to pick spaghetti?”

Peter sticks his head around the bend, a wicked smile on his face.

“What makes you think I didn’t know about the bet?”

* * *

“I decided college life was better than the NHL.”

“…”

“I wanted them to have some degree of stability. But I’m running around all the time trying to make it all work and I just…”

“I think they get it.”

“Do you?”

Chris placed his hands on Peter’s shoulder, standing behind him and staying close as they watched Derek sleep. The boy’s eyes were puffy and his throat was sore from sobbing.

“I do.”

Peter leaned into his touch, his back to Chris’ chest, and his hands held Chris’ in place.

“Thank you.”

* * *

In the end, they didn’t make championships, though they got pretty damn close.

Peter was checked and he took it with good grace, despite his concussion.

Claudia and John finally met and Chris could not be happier for them.

Victoria and Melissa moved in together and Chris was pretty sure it was not just a platonic thing.

Peter pressed a kiss to his cheek when they announced Chris would be captain next year.

A good season then.

* * *

 

Derek sat on Chris’ knee, munching on a bowl of cocoa puffs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m staying with Claudia.”

“So you’re not going to stay?”

Chris pinched Derek’s chubby, little cheek. “Sorry, kiddo.”

Peter placed a plate of eggs in front of him. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

Chris picked up his fork. “I don’t have many other options…”

“Do you want to stay with us?” Peter settled with his own plate of eggs. “We have more than enough room.

And that is why Chris wouldn’t dream of asking. Because the Hale’s live in what he considers a mansion and he’s not sure his pride can take it.

“I don’t think…”

“Derek,” Peter said, grabbing the boy’s attention. “Why don’t you put your bowl in the sink and see what Laura’s doing?”

“Okay!” And the weight left Chris’ knees.

Peter put his fork down and sighed. “Why?”

“I don’t want charity.”

“It’s not charity.”

“What is it then?”

“Family.” Peter sucked in a breath and Chris knew that look on his face. “I… I wanted to build a family with them, a new one, just the three of us, and somehow I sucked you into that. Chris, you are family. The kids think so. I think so. I want you to think so. I know this isn’t ideal because...”

“Peter. I can’t.”

Peter’s eyes went soft and Chris wanted to reach out and stroke his hair and promise him everything would be alright even if it wouldn’t.

Peter nodded, breathing a little uneven. “I get it. What am I even asking?”

Peter got up, mumbling as he walked into the kitchen. Chris stood, following the small stream of words, Peter’s internal monologue running externally. “You’re going to have a family of your own one day. I’m selfish, but not when it comes to family, Chris. When you leave, I’ll have to let you go, and I don’t want us to break up when we were never together. Better to just…”

Chris stopped. “What makes you think we can’t be together?”

Peter, eyes wide and shame dripping from his face, whipped around. “You’re…”

Oh, fuck it all. They needed to get on the same page and Chris was not the one on the wrong page here and if they just got on the same page it might all work out, he thought.  

Chris sighed and leaned against the marble counter top. “Peter, I can’t remember the last time I slept in my bed at the Haus…”

“We’re not…”

“I pick up the kids from school and we make dinner together.” We are so domestic I want to throw up now that I think about how domestic and happy we are, he meant. And not in that gross way, but in the sense that he never thought he would be married and happy about it at twenty.

“Are you going to stay?”

Chris couldn’t resist a small smile. “I don’t know. Does my boyfriend want me to?”

Peter pressed a kiss to Chris’ lips. “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> It was either this or another half hour of sobbing over my calc book.


End file.
